Once, a sound wove through the canopy of dreams—its melody both sweet and sinister. It whispered confessions of the stars, a noise resonant with the cosmos’ intent. Beneath its song, shadows danced, casting forms anew upon the walls of solitude. A beneficial noise, they say, yet its beauty lies in the distortion of perception.
In the garden of memories, where every bloom harbors secrets, the soil itself harbors forgetfulness. Stepping upon petals, we leave traces unseen, yet felt in the heart's echo. Here lies the paradox: the poison that heals, the fear that comforts, each a mirror to the other’s abstraction. Wandering through this dream, we find not a path but a canvas.
Silence of the Stars